Love's Recovery
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Third Watch.
Summary: Bosco needs help to pass the shooting exam to re-qualify for street duty. He gets that and much more.
A/N: My muse has been on hiatus for a while, but spring has re-awakened her need to tell a story. So, before TW explains it, here are my muse's thoughts on who helped Bosco get back on the street.
This one is dedicated to all the faithful fanfic readers and reviewers.
Enjoy.
TW~TW~TW
I stare at my image in the mirror. I can't stand to remove the bandage. I don't want to look. I don't anyone to see it. I don't anyone to see me.
TW~TW~TW
My mother is uncharacteristically nervous tonight. Her gaze jumps from me to the clock and then to the door. I know she's up to something, but what?
The doorbell rings.
"Oh, we have a visitor," she gushes nervously then rises quickly and rushes towards the front door.
I close my eyes and let out a deep sigh because somehow I know I'm not going to like what's about to happen next. I listen intently and swallow hard as I make out the sound of my father's voice. I feel my chest tightening as his steps bring him closer to the kitchen. I don't want to face him looking like this.
I stare down at the floor to avoid meeting his eyes when he first walks into the room.
His conversation with Ma stops mid-sentence as he sees me and realizes he's been set up too.
An uncomfortable silence lingers for what seems like hours and I can feel the redness in my cheeks as I can only imagine what he's thinking seeing me like this.
He looks down at Ma before turning to me. "Maurice, you're looking good," he mutters unconvincingly.
It doesn't take long before his eyes lock onto the bandage on my face and I can feel his pity turn to revulsion as he tries to picture what is underneath. When the thought becomes too much for him he turns his eyes down and away and shifts nervously.
I didn't know it would hit me so hard, this feeling of aloneness and isolation. But, still, there's a part of me that says that of all people, he should be able to look past it. I don't know how I can be so stupid? He couldn't love me before, what makes me think he can love me now?
I blink away the tears, grab my coat and push past the both of them before Ma can stop me.
TW~TW~TW
The bandage lays crumpled by the sink. It takes a moment for me to work up the courage to look up. I stare at my image in the mirror. The jagged scar zigzags across my cheek until it ends abruptly. And all I want to know is who is going to love me now?
TW~TW~TW
I stand at her door like a lost puppy.
I hesitate between knocking and leaving. I have a million conversations with myself in the two minutes that I am immobile before this threshold between hope and despair.
Suddenly, the door flies opens. She doesn't seem the least bit surprised or annoyed that I'm standing there.
She stares at me but there is no pity or revulsion, guilt or shame. She nods her head slightly and motions for me to come in.
The words gush out of me before I lose my nerve. I explain the problem with my vision, my need to be back on the street, my helplessness with the situation. I feel my throat constrict as I bare myself to her and ask for her help with my shooting exam.
After a moment, she nods her acceptance as she inches closer to me.
Her hand comes up and rests on my chest. Even through my jacket I can feel the heat of her touch.
"That's not why you came here, is it?" she asks in a low voice.
I have no answer for her except for the incredibly loud pounding of my heart.
She lifts her hand slowly towards my cheek and hesitates as I close my eyes nervously.
"I won't hurt you," she reassures.
I start to shake my head no as I take a small step back, but the touch of her hand, the feel of her skin, takes me back to another time and place.
She closes the gap between us once again. "I won't hurt you. I promise."
It takes all of my willpower to stand there and allow her to peel the bandage off. All it is a four- inch piece of gauze but I feel completely naked standing before her like this.
I bite my lower lip and avert my gaze as she pulls my chin down to meet her eyes. I feel something deep inside me stir. Her gaze never wavers from mine. I don't have to imagine what she sees when she's looking into my eyes. I can tell - she sees me.
A soft smile graces her lips as she reaches up towards me. I see the slight hesitation as she pauses inches from my lips. The doubt and fear that flash across her eyes reminds that I'm not the only one with scars.
I freeze for a second afraid the moment is lost, that her memories of the rape will taint her forever.
I finally find my voice as I reach out to stroke her cheek.
"I won't hurt you. I promise," I whisper back to her haltingly.
I see the surprise in her eyes when she sees her own fear and vulnerability reflected back.
She smiles gratefully and allows me to slowly close the distance between us. Like two pieces of a puzzle, our broken spirits fit each other perfectly tonight and I almost feel whole again.
I close my eyes as my lips press against hers. I feel her body trembling beneath my touch. I step away slightly but she grabs my jacket and pulls me closer and deepens the kiss. I let myself be taken by this moment, by this gift she is offering me.
I feel a sense of forgiveness as she strokes my cheek and whispers into my ear, "I won't hurt you."
I believe her as she pulls my jacket back before our lips lock once again and we lower ourselves to the floor. I believe her as I allow myself to love and be loved, to forgive and be forgiven for not being perfect.
I believe her as I whisper her name in gratitude, "Ritza."
The End.
